Jimmy Dorrell is the pastor of Church Under the Bridge, an interdenominational church that grew from a Bible study with 5 homeless men in Waco, Texas, in 1992 underneath an interstate bridge. Today, there are 300 diverse people of many races and economic backgrounds who meet outside under the same interstate bridge each week. He and his wife, Janet, have four children, Seth, Josh, Zach, and Christy.

APPEARANCES

A Church for the Least of These

By Jimmy Dorrell

CBN.com  Excuse me, sir,are you having Bible
study?” the tall, bearded man inquired. “Can I join
you?” And with that, one of our best teachers sat down
among us.

Kruger’s life had been hard. Reared in a small Texas
town, his alcoholic dad relentlessly rejected him with
rarely a word of approval. Forced to go to church as
a young boy, he resented every song and sermon as hypocrisy. Outward signs of religion were
everywhere in this small community. Believing
in Jesus was as normative as Friday night football.
But with each verbal and physical beating,
Kruger waited for an opportunity to leave his
two-faced family. At 15 he was gone. With a
few odd jobs here and there, the army became
the first stable environment for him. But this
stability came wrapped in the Vietnam War,
alcohol, and drugs. Before a year had passed,
Kruger was diagnosed with post-traumatic
stress disorder (PTSD) and released back to
the care of the Veterans Administration (VA).

“Certified crazy by the VA,” as he said of
himself, few opportunities existed to work and
keep his small government allowance. Certainly
there was not enough income to maintain his
growing drug habit. So to the underworld he
went, and Kruger became an accomplished car
thief. Claiming membership in a large gang of
thieves from all over the Southwest, he could
steal and sell automobiles with the best of
them, with plenty of cash to support his habit.

Then the inevitable happened. He was
caught in Alabama in a burglary gone bad,
and whisked off to jail. Using a false identity
in hopes of remaining anonymous, Kruger laid
down in his lonely cell. Noticing a book on the
window ledge, he reached for it and thumbed
through the pages. It was a Bible. “Not one in
that foreign KJV language,” he quipped, “but
one I could read and understand.” For the next
three days with only short naps between chapters,
he read.

Overwhelmed by the truth, he cried out to
God to change him and unweave the messes
of his life. “God, if You can open the door
of Peter’s cell, open mine.” To his amazement,
when he pulled on his cell door, it was
unlatched. With no guards around, he walked
to the end of the hall and made a collect call to
his mother, requesting her to send bail money.
She did and he was again free on the streets.

But something had happened in that jail cell
that forever changed him. The God he thought
was more like his abusing father had become
a God of grace and mercy. The words of a gospel
that had felt more like bad news than good
news had given him a new perspective for living.
He was freed on the inside as much as the
outside. New life, new direction.

Traveling back to Waco, Kruger did what
new Christians are supposed to do—go to
church. On Sunday morning, dressed in the
only clothes he owned and with his mangled
beard and unwashed hair, he entered the
vestibule of the first church he found. “Hey, you,
mister,” the assigned greeter barked, “What
are you doing here?” “I just came to church,”
Kruger said. “Not looking like that,” pointing to
the clothes. “You’ll have to find some church
clothes and clean up if you want to come back
here.”

And with that, memories of his childhood
flashed before him. Rejected for his soiled
appearance by those who deemed themselves
keepers of the earthly kingdom, this
new child of God asked what many
are asking today, “If I in my poverty
am acceptable to God, why am
I not acceptable to His people?”

In his simplicity, Kruger’s question
defines the challenge. Though
few of us would openly acknowledge
that appearance matters to
God, our actions suggest otherwise.
The preoccupation in Western culture
with the appearance of one’s outfit, house,
yard, car, and office complex has affected how
Christians determine their own values. What
might seem like a shallow or legalistic issue
unveils a basic core value that followers of the
kingdom must face.

Appearance Really Doesn’tMatter (Or Does It?)

From the time most babies leave the hospital,
outward appearance becomes paramount.
Young parents and new grandparents spend
millions of dollars for infant and baby clothing
that are usually loathed by the child and worn
only a time or two. Yet the oohs and ahs from
well-wishers of the new family are validations
of this “prettiest baby I have ever seen” conditioned
response. Neatly tied bows, knotted
hairstyles, and well-starched outfits are hardly
appreciated by the baby just leaving the comfort
of the mother’s womb. But from that time
on, appropriate public appearance is a value
embedded in life.

Americans spend millions a year on clothing
that has little to do with need. Add the
cost of accessorizing the outfits with belts, ties,
scarves, hats, earrings, jewelry, and purses,
and millions more are added. Shoe sales alone
add millions more. Include the cost of haircuts,
cosmetics, tanning, manicures, pedicures,
and hair removal and the amount skyrockets.
Name-brand and designer labels drive the
fashion industry.

Even in the simple dress of Jesus’s day, when
clothing choices amounted to little more than
a pick of robes or sashes, the issue was important
enough to the Teacher that He reminded
the hillside listeners of their little faith with the
question, “Why do you worry about clothes?
. . . Pagans run after all these things” (Matthew
6:28, 32). Concern for clothing, food, or drink
is a futile endeavor, and is compared to idolatry
and paganism.
Jesus chastised the religious Pharisees
because of their preoccupation with outward
attraction. “Woe to you, teachers of the law
and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You are like
whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on
the outside but on the inside are full of dead
men’s bones and everything unclean” (Matthew
23:2). Driven by some insatiable desire to be
approved by others for what they wore instead
of who they were, the issue was significant
enough to the Son of God that He frequently
used the concern for outward appearance as a
sign of infidelity to God.

Yet it is the nature of humans to judge others
by their physical appearance. Somehow we
imagine that the wrapping paper is representative
of the gift inside. If we are pretty, we are
pleasing to God, we assume. But nothing could
be further from the truth. “The Lord does not
look at the things man looks at. Man looks at
the outward appearance, but the Lord looks
at the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7). “Stop judging by
mere appearance, and make a right judgment”
(John 7:24). “You are looking only on the surface
of things” (2 Corinthians 10:7).

The prophet Isaiah recognized this human
dilemma and reminded the expectant children
of Israel that the coming Messiah would
Himself be unattractive by human standards.
“He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to
him, nothing in his appearance that we should
desire him” (Isaiah 53:2). Yet in our paganlike
way, we recreate God in our own image. We
make Him soft-skinned and handsome, often
with white skin and blue eyes. We make him
average height and weight with normal features.
With a haircut and a business suit, He could sit
in the boardroom next to the CEO. But if Jesus
returned in the flesh today and was short, a
little overweight, black- or brown-skinned, had
large ears or had a mole on His face, would
we recognize Him? There was simply nothing
about Jesus’s appearance that caused others to
follow Him.

Nor was there any unique appearance that
mattered in His choosing of the disciples. The
ragtag disciples were fishermen, tax collectors,
and common men, all chosen to be the
progenitors of truth across the world. Jesus’s
words and relationships confirmed the value
He gave to those on the fringes of society. The
immoral prostitute, the despised tax collector,
the wild-eyed demoniac, the beggars, the lepers,
the half-breeds, the old widows, the poor,
the blind, the deaf, and the lame were His daily
acquaintances. The religious leaders rejected
these troll-like people, except as needed for
their own attention. Jesus announced that the
“least of these” hungry, thirsty, imprisoned, sick,
stranger, and naked were His representatives
and caring for their needs was tantamount to
caring for God Himself (Matthew 25:31–46).
To reject the rejected is not right in God’s kingdom.
No smells, appearance, moral depravity,
or economic condition was worthy of turning
them away. Alternately, part of what it means
to be in the kingdom is to have relationships
with the least ones.

The apostle Paul also
knew firsthand how supposed
truth seekers prefer
the handsome dispensers of truth instead of
the truth itself. Some Bible scholars suggest
that Paul’s personal appearance was somewhat
repulsive. They claim he was somewhat
disfigured or that his eyesight was failing, and
still others think his “thorn in the flesh” was a
disease such as epilepsy or severe respiratory
illness. But whatever it was, Paul was certainly
not humanly attractive. Ironically, when the
false teachers challenged him in Jerusalem,
Paul’s own words indicate that external appearance
was a factor in their challenge. “God does
not judge by external appearance” (Galatians
2:6), he proclaimed, and pointed to his vocational
call as the measure of his acceptance by
God and His followers.

Pretty People and theUncompromising Gospel

Research continues to show that men and
women and boys and girls who are identified
as pretty, handsome, or cute are given special
privilege in our culture. No surprise there. The
dilemma for Christians is that this value has
nothing to do with the kingdom of God. Not
only are disciples of Jesus not to regard another’s
looks as important, Paul’s plea for modesty
would suggest that we should not attempt to
draw attention to ourselves based on physical
appearance. The Christian virtue of modesty
suggests that we are to blend into the cultural
norms. Overdressing or underdressing
bring notice to our external appearance and
cloud the beauty of character. Yet the advertising
industry has seduced us to believe that
the designer label, the stylish attire, the showy
jewelry, and the revealing swimsuit are worthy
objectives. The mass marketing of Christian
jewelry and clothing lines merely compounds
the challenge.

“Wear your best for God,” was the norm for
church folks when I was a child. At age ten, living
in the record humidity of southeast Texas,
I remember the misery of wearing a clip-on tie
and a sports coat in the blazing summer heat
on the way to church. Although today many
churches have loosened their dress codes,
there are many congregations that still expect
flashy suits, large hats, and matching shoes.

Worse still, the non-Christian world, which
identifies Americans as Christian, is repulsed
by the pornographic dress of our culture. I
remember being in a slum in India, with only
one television in the area, and observing a
group of men huddled around it, gawking at
the program Baywatch, then the most watched
television program on the planet. Though they
enjoyed the moments of lust, they would never
let their own daughters out of the house in
such attire.

Ironically, in the Islamic, Hindu, and
Buddhist worlds, conservative clothing is
normative in their countries. Yet in the Christian
West, large-breasted women adorned with gold
crosses on their plunging necklines are considered
attractive and acceptable. In our culture,
cosmetic surgery has replaced modesty as the
way to become desired.

Church Buildings and OtherReligious Complexes

The need for approval of our personal appearance
is closely tied to our possessions.
Americans seem to have an insatiable need
for acceptance and comfort. Driving the right
car, living in a beautiful home, getting the kids
in the best schools, owning the latest gadget,
attending the right charity event, and eating at
the finest restaurants drive the lifestyles of the
affluent. Unfortunately, it is usually the same
for affluent Christians. While the Bible clearly
confronts such greed, lust, and pride, rarely do
we find modern followers of Jesus who downsize
for the kingdom in order to be more frugal
with their resources for the kingdom. Looking
good in the eyes of others seems to affect every
area of life.

Perhaps no greater public display of our
sin exists than the appearance of our places
of worship. While few Christians still defend
the church building as God’s house, the vulgar
use of excessive resources to build religious
complexes for a few hours a week continues.
Confronted with the reality that the average
church today continues to give less and less
to the poor and needy and spend more and
more on themselves, there seems to be little
repentance based on each year’s growing budget
to rearrange the priorities. Based on most
current data, churches in America today spend
less than 1 percent of their annual budget
on the needs of the poor and hungry of our
nation and world. Even among those members
who become aware and convicted of this
embarrassing disparity, few, if any, are willing
to bring it to the church’s attention in those
business meetings where budgets and buildings
are discussed. Benign neglect becomes
the modus operandi for fear that others might
point at our own hypocrisy. “We need an attractive
and comfortable building to attract the
unchurched in our community,” the argument
goes. We ignore the basic issue that the values
of the kingdom preached and lived among the
churched folks should be significantly different
from the lives of the unchurched they are
hoping to reach. American Christians spend
millions on looking good, while the world’s
poor go hungry, with no apparent conviction
that the two are related.

Trolls and the Kingdom

Kruger’s simple, blunt question about appearance
gets at the core of how the poor and
marginalized question the faith of middle-class
Christianity. If appearance does not matter to
God, why does it continue to be a high value
among His people? Why do pastors and Sunday
School teachers not openly condemn our vulgar
preoccupation with looking good and the
millions of dollars spent to satisfy the shallow
need? Who in the congregation will dare
to stand in the business meeting and question
the use of tithes and offerings for stained glass
windows and immaculate lawns while a world
goes hungry? And while appearance is clearly
the symptom of the deeper issue, it is one of
the topics which Jesus and His followers recognized
as primary to deal with more significant
issues. Until Christians can comfortably sit
next to the Krugers of life and worship God
with only celebration of the oneness of being
in the family of God together, they are missing
the joys of Christian fellowship. Hands lifted
together, with fingernails both manicured and
grease-laden, are a testimony that appearance
does not matter.

The fact that we do segregate around issues
of appearance keeps the very people Jesus
sought out of our churches. When surveyed as
to why folks do not go to church, the poor and
marginalized list clothes as the number one
reason. Proper attire and church have
become so intertwined in many
circles that it is better not to go
than to go underdressed. Add the
challenges of personal hygiene,
haircuts, and clean clothes, and
the barriers grow.

Kruger’s appearance is a challenge to those
around him. His long, uncut fingernails are
laden with oil and grease from his mechanic
work. His jeans are soiled, beard and hair long
and unkempt, and on occasion his body odor
is strong. He is, however, only one of scores
of poorly dressed folks who attend Church
Under the Bridge. There are tattooed bodies
everywhere, and lots of missing teeth. One
man has severe facial scars from major burns.
Another has little of his face remaining after he
attempted suicide with a shotgun years before.
People wear shorts, overalls, jeans, dresses,
and even an occasional tie. But no one seems
to notice what others are wearing. It not a high
value or one noticed.

At Church Under the Bridge, preference is
not given to pretty people or dignitaries. The
Scriptures are crystal clear about that. “If you
show special attention to the man wearing fine
clothes and say, ‘Here’s a good seat for you,’
but say to the poor man, ‘You stand there’ or
‘Sit on the floor by my feet,’ have you not discriminated
among yourselves and become
judges with evil thoughts?” (James 2:3, 4).

And certainly the “church building” has
little appeal itself. Located outside under an
interstate bridge, the graveled “carpet,” overhead
noise, pooping pigeons, and inclement
weather are hardly seductive in and of themselves
to the churched or unchurched. Yet it is
the commonness of the place that disarms the
hundreds who attend. “This ordinary bridge
made holy by His presence,” points to God’s
ways when there were no temples and shrines.
Like altars made by the patriarchs in the Old
Testament from common stones and sticks in
deserts and fields, this tabernacle-like location
is mobile and unthreatening to those not ready
to sit in a pew. There are no light bills, no construction
costs (except to the state of Texas!),
no utility bills. There is no need to be there,
nothing attractive about the place, except
that the presence of God is there. Financial
resources are consequently freed up to share
with the local and global poor instead of maintaining
a building. And beauty is found more
in the kingdom relationships than appearance.

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